Don't Take Your Guns to Town
by aforeTempus
Summary: I don't own Gravity Falls or Johnny cash's Don't Take Your Guns to Town; Sometimes, life isn't as good as some make it out to be. Warning: Mature language, Character Death


Don't Take Your Guns to Town

The young man sighed as he pulled himself up from the seat he has been sitting in for the past few hours, his body growing restless as he made his way towards his home. He let his mind wander to the endless possibilities that waited outside his father's farm. Billy Joel Cipher, better known as Bill Cipher was always a curious young fellow. That has always been something that normally got him into trouble, his curiosity. His pranks were harmless as well, meant to see how people react to certain situations, like a corn snake in his former crush's boot, or a basket full of tumbleweeds on the Sherriff's head. Bill had a darker trickster inside him but he didn't want to hurt anybody, especially his beloved mother.

Bill made his way inside his home and smiled at the scene before him. His mother was knitting the newly dyed wool into a sweater, the near same color of his twin brother's eyes, of the afternoon sky. The thought of his younger brother made his smile dip to where it didn't reach his eyes anymore. His mother noticed the difference in his demeanor and frowned. Bill seemed to be planning something, and she didn't think she would like it either. His mother stood, and with careful hands, placed her nearly finished masterpiece down, and went to Bill. She placed a tentative hand on his shoulder and gave him a sad smile.

"He will be fine, Bill," Bill still looked unsure and pulled his gaze away from the room down the hallway.

He sighed, "Okay, mother."

Bill pulled from her grasp and made his way down the hallway to the room across from the one he was looking at previously. He pulled out his comb and brushed his hair, the blond strands falling gently in front of his left eye; his right was a shining blue with pent up excitement, his past sadness pushed to the back of his mind to be dealt with later. After this round into town, he wouldn't have to worry about this sadness anymore. Tossing his comb back onto his oaken desk, Bill waltzed to his wardrobe and opened the doors with a flourish. He pulled out three items and kicked the doors closed, tossing the items loosely on the bed, not caring where they landed.

He danced around the room and pulled on his coat with a grin. Only one thing could get him down today, and that didn't seem like it was going to happen anytime soon. Today was Bill's last day as a student, and he would finally be able to put what he learned to good use. Hopefully, everything went as he had planned.

Humming a cheerful tune, Bill pulled out his father's old twenty- two caliber, and put it into place on his belt. It had always made him laugh, the way his father would shoot at the squirrels that would launch themselves onto his mama's bird feeders. His father would cry blasphemy and nail the buggers right in the butthole, the poor creatures scampering away before they could be hit again. Bill laughed at the mental image his overactive mind conjured up, and made his way down the hallway and out the front door. He was almost down to the dirt road when heard a voice behind him.

"Billy Joel Cipher!" Crap! "Where do you think you're going without telling me?" His mother looked stern with her arms crossed over her chest, the finished sweater clutched tightly in her hand.

Bill tried to look sly as he strolled up to his mother and held his arms out in a manner that looked over exaggerated. Bill grinned, "Why mother, I'm heading into town! So many things to discover after tending the farm for the past week…" The face Bill pulled made his mother smile. Great job, Bill! Mission completed. Now all he needed to do was reassure his mother that he was going to be alright. "Don't worry, mama. I got daddy's ole gun."

She knew it. Her smile faded as she started to cry, "Don't- don't take your guns to town son, leave your guns at home, Bill… don't take your guns to town."

Bill pulled his mother into a hug and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Your Billy Joel is a man, mama." He smiled to reassure her, pulling himself into a jaunty stance. "I can shoot as quick and straight as anybody can," his mother sobered a little, "but I won't shoot without a cause; I'd gun nobody down." And with that, Bill turned on his heal, headed down the walkway, but not before his mother saw his father's gun strung at his hip.

But she started to cry again as he walked away, "Don't take your guns to town son, leave your guns at home, Bill… don't take your guns to town."

Bill sang a song as he rode upon his blondish horse gone down. He rode into Cattle town, a smile still on his lips.

He stopped and went into the bar, and laid his money down. Bill looked up at the barista and paused. Never had he seen such colored eyes, the color of the cocoa he'd picked the day before.

He gave a sly smirk to the boy in front of him. The boy looked like he had sensed that Bill was looking at him, so he bent down and grabbed a small liquor bottle and a bottle of water and handed it to Bill. Bill blinked down at the two drinks he had yet to ask for. He looked up at the brown-haired boy as he worked. Just as he decided to call out to the boy to remind him to get the money, the boy picked up the coins and placed them in the register. Bill blinked again, just staring at this boy

When the boy realized that this stranger was still staring at him, he gave the man a smile and his undivided attention- well, maybe not completely undivided, he still had a bar to attend to.

"Hello, sir, did I not give you what you paid for?"

Bill's small smile turned into a smirk, "no, I don't believe you did, kid."

The boy frowned; he knew he had gotten it right. "Alright. What would you like then sir?" The boy saw how Bill's eyes shifted to where he knew the bourbon was, or at least that general direction.

Bill had to test his theory, "yeah, give me a glass of-"

"Cheshire bourbon?"

Bill stood up quickly, his gun accidently flashing to the whole saloon. "You're a telepath!" he cried, the boy shushing him when some of the people in the bar looked over in curiosity. Bill sat down and waited for the boy's explanation.

The boy blushed in embarrassment at the man's assumption. He patted his bangs down flat against his forehead and looked away. "It was the way you had cut your eyes…sir…" He gestured to the two types of bourbon. Cheshire and Joker. Light and Dark. Bill looked suspicious. "And how did you know I was going to choose Cheshire?"

The boy grinned, "The way you kept fidgetin' in your seat, and looking at the door like you had somewhere to go. You needed somethin' light to take some sort of edge off." He blinked as he poured the man another glass of Cheshire, "and goin' by the way you believed I was telepathic, you must believe in the supernatural, or at the very least magic."

Bill glowered at the drink that was offered to him, then glared at the boy before him. "You really didn't answer my question…"

The boy gave his own glare, "I didn't think I needed to tell a stranger if I have an ability outside of nature. Yeah, no, I'll stick with tellin' the fact that I am just that good at reading people."

Bill grinned gleefully, "So you are!"

The boy glanced back, "did I say that?"

"No…"

"Then there you go." He tended to some of the other people while he waited for the man to call him again. And when he did, it seemed like the man had a coin bag full of questions, and it seemed like a lot for just a little bit of curiosity. He sighed, "Ok. What do you want?"

"Your name."

The boy raised an eyebrow. Normally people would want more personal questions. "Dipper Pines," he pulled out a chair from under the counter and sat down. It was normally quiet after twelve, local time. "Now I get to ask a question. What is _your_ name?"

Bill grinned proudly, "name's Billy Joel Cipher, but people call me Bill for short."

The boy, Dipper, nodded in thought, "ok… do you have any sib-"

They jumped at the sound of the saloon doors hitting the wall. Dipper winced at the splinters in the newly replaced door. He groaned, "Gideon! I just replaced those doors!"

Gideon sneered, "Quiet boy!" Dipper just stared at the boy, no older than 10 had come into the bar. Now, he would have kicked the child out but he had an older, larger man to accompany him. Yeah, no, he wasn't that stupid.

"And that is coming from a miniature pipsqueak," Bill laughed.

Dipper facepalmed. Apparently, someone actually is that stupid.

Gideon growled, "What did you just say, you one eyed freak!?" His fists clenched.

Bill grinned, "I just called you short, surely you aren't going to cry over it?"

Gideon sniffled, "No..." At the look, Bill gave him, he growled. "Ghost Eyes!"

Bill and Dipper got down to the ground,

Shit!


End file.
